


Consistency in Coffee

by goingmywaydoll



Series: flowered shirts, jane austen and muffins [1]
Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, for the frary writers network
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingmywaydoll/pseuds/goingmywaydoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Adventure in life is good; consistency in coffee even better.” --Justina Chen.</p><p>or</p><p>the coffee shop au that every fandom needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consistency in Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> okay this was supposed to be a oneshot and technically it is but oops it's over 5000 words and i have no regrets.
> 
> also this one's for the frary writers network on tumblr. i'm so glad i have you guys to help edit and i can't wait for it to get up and running and we can really do some damage. thanks guys, you're the best!

He’s blond and wears flowered button downs and has blue eyes. The Lumineers are playing quietly through the speakers when she first walks in and he’s leaning on the counter. There’s a sketchbook splayed out before him and he’s scribbling on it absentmindedly.

“You’re new,” she says as she walks up to the counter, her eyes glancing to his nametag. _Francis_. It suits him. 

“What can I get for you?” he asks smiling politely as he tucks the pencil behind his ear and slips the sketchbook away.

“Black coffee, one sugar,” she says. She’ll miss Leith’s early morning snark, but the flash of a drawing of a sword catches her eye and she thinks he’ll do. 

“Name?” 

“Mary,” she replies and tries to pretend she didn’t see the small upturn of his lips at her answer. His mouth opens ever so slightly as if he wants to say something but he closes it quickly and bites his lip. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“Coming right up,” he says instead and she swears his gaze lingers on her for a split second. He busies himself with her coffee and she scans the café for her favorite spot by the window. It’s blessedly not taken and she sit comfortably on the chair and pulls out her worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. As she immerses herself into the thoughts of Elizabeth, she tries not to think about the way his eyes twinkled at her when she approached the counter. She’s twenty-one and her heart shouldn’t be skipping a beat when she looks at boys anymore.

“Mary?” he soft voice calls out and she glances up to see her coffee resting on the counter and him looking at her expectantly. She dog-ears her page before walking over and taking it as she passes him the money. He smiles at her as she turns away, taking a sip. The drink scalds her tongue as it always does but she’s surprised that he got the sugar just right. Too much and it’s too sweet, too little and it’s too bitter. It took Leith a month to get it right, as Mary mercilessly teases him for.

He waves to her when the bell rings over the door as she walks out and she smiles at him through the window.

 

 

 

She meets Greer, Kenna and Lola at the pub later that night. Greer is tucked comfortably into Leith’s arms, Lola is talking animatedly to her about something while Kenna’s eyes scan the room, obviously looking for someone. They all light up when Mary slips into the booth.

“There’s a new barista at the shop,” she says to Leith after they exchange hellos.

“Oh yeah, that’s Francis. He’s got the morning shift on weekends now,” Leith answers, looking at her expectantly. Mary ignores his look and turns towards Kenna.

“Looking for someone in particular?” she asks and Kenna takes her eyes away from the bar to look at her friend.

“It’s Kenna, of course not,” Lola jokes and Kenna shoots her a look.

“I’ll have you know I am,” she says haughtily. The three girls raise their eyebrows, surprised. “There’s a cute bartender with _gorgeous_ green eyes I have my eye on. I want to see if he’s on duty tonight.”

“Aww, you’re settling down,” says Greer, only sort of serious. Kenna rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her beer, returning her eyes to the bar.

“You’re not going to tell us about him?” asks Mary. Kenna usually told them about all the men in her life whether they liked it or not.

“Wait a few minutes and you’ll meet him yourself,” Kenna says impatiently. Mary doesn’t say anything but instead exchanges a look with her other two friends. Kenna rarely lets them meet her boyfriends as they never last long.

Kenna’s bartender doesn’t end up being on duty and she goes home with another bloke, waving goodbye and looking (mostly) content. The alcohol is still flowing freely through their veins when they exit the pub, Lola and Mary’s arms link and Leith’s arm thrown around Greer. Lola has always been the one to hold her liquor well so she’s the one to hail a cab as Mary and Greer laugh at something that isn’t really funny.

They share a cab to their building as always and Mary waves goodbye to Greer and Leith as they stumble into their flat across the hall. Lola says something about going to meet her new boyfriend Julien and leaves Mary to find her keys in her seemingly bottomless purse. It takes her nearly ten minutes and a near panic attack but soon she’s mixing alcohol with toothpaste unintentionally and setting out two paracetamol for the morning as she crawls into bed.

Mary doesn’t think about him when she falls asleep. His face isn’t the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes. She doesn’t imagine him crawling into bed beside her. She doesn’t hear his voice or see his smile. Because she’s an English major and he’s her barista.

For now.

 

 

 

He’s memorized her order, pouring a black coffee before she even reaches the counter.

“Morning,” she says, smiling the smile she does each morning. He slides the iced coffee over to her, winking as he does it. She raises an eyebrow. “Iced?”

“You hate the heat,” he says simply.

“How d’you know?”

“You never wear jeans past May.” Mary purses her lips so her smile isn’t too wide. He opens his mouth to say something more, but thinks better of it and busies himself with wiping the counter down.

“Astute,” she says, nodding once and trying not to blush at the attention he gives her.

“Not staying today?” he asks, glancing over to her preferred seat, which is taken up by two teens.

“I have class, unfortunately,” she sighs. “It’s impossible to get through Professor Hugh’s comparative lit class without a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, smiling. She checks the time. Fifteen minutes until class starts and it takes ten minutes to get there. Her shoulders heave as she leans on the counter. Francis raises an eyebrow. She rarely lingers at the counter and their conversations are limited to orders, smiles and lingering gazes.

“So you’re a student too?” she asks before she can stop herself. He nods. “What’s your major?”

“Sociology,” he replies and she nearly smiles. It suits him. “You?”

“English,” she answers. “Hence the comparative lit class.”

“Ah, of course,” he says. “So, you want to be a writer.”

“As if,” Mary laughs. “English teacher actually.” 

“A noble profession,” he says seriously.

“Just about as noble as a barista,” she says and he laughs, his eyes crinkling.

Once he stops and Mary is left with the disappointment of silence, his blue eyes meet hers and he adds quietly, “I think it’s a great dream.” 

“Thank you,” she says and tears her eyes away from his. “So what does Francis the barista want to be when he grows up?”

He laughs again and her heart most certainly did not skip a beat then. 

“My mum and dad always wanted me to go into politics since my dad did but I never really wanted that no matter how hard they pushed. I like the idea of it, really I do. But it seems like everyone that goes into politics ends up sacrificing their values once they do. I don’t want that. I want to actually make a difference without dealing with bureaucracy and all that. And I like thinking about human behavior and how we live and why and why we do the things we do, feel the things we feel,” he says before he stops himself, blushing slightly. “Sorry, I ranted a bit.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she says as she smiles reassuringly. “It’s interesting to hear about what you’re passionate about. I get the same way about books.”

“Top three favorite books, go,” he challenges, smiling widely.

“Oh God, I don’t think I could begin to!” she says. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh fine. As long as you don’t make fun of me.” He nods and gestures for her to continue. “I suppose _Pride & Prejudice_, Jane Austen of course, _Purple Hibiscus_ by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and, you can’t make fun of me, but Harry Potter.”

He nods slowly, pretending to think about her answers. 

“I suppose you’ll pass,” he says and Mary opens her mouth with a retort ready when two teenage girls walk up behind them and cough pointedly.

“Would you two stop flirting for thirty seconds so we can order?” one of them asks, her hands on her hips. Francis and Mary exchange a look, simultaneously trying not to blush and laugh at the same time. The two girls look at them expectantly.

“Sorry,” Mary mutters and steps out of the way, sipping her coffee. The two girls step up to the counter and noticeably brighten when Francis turns his attention to them and asks for their order.

“One French vanilla coffee with skim milk and two sugars,” the one who spoke first says.

“And one iced coffee with cream and two sugars,” the other adds. Francis nods, jotting down the order quickly before turning and beginning to make the drinks. Mary checks her watch, seeing that if she doesn’t leave soon, she’ll be late to class.

“Listen, Francis, I have class but we can discuss _your_ book taste tomorrow,” she says once Francis turns around. Something like disappointment flashes in his eyes but it’s gone before Mary can be sure. He waves goodbye, not looking at the two girls he hands the coffee to as Mary leaves the café.

 

 

 

She doesn’t know why she invites him; it just comes out one day when she’s leaning over the counter.

She started having her coffee at the counter two weeks ago, about a week after the teenage girls told them they were flirting. She and Francis never discussed the incident and their playful banter continued on. It’s gotten to the point now that Lola teases her for spending so much time at the coffee shop, though Mary hasn’t told them yet why. Kenna knows even without confirmation from Mary (Kenna always knows). She doesn’t know who, but she knows there is a who and though she’s Kenna, she keeps quiet, waiting until Mary tells them on her own time.

Today he slides her the iced black coffee without even looking up and before she can say her usual tired “Morning.”

“You’re getting good,” she says after taking a sip and leaning against the counter on her elbows.

“What can I say, I have a Mary radar,” he says.

“Or I just come in every day at the same time and you can see me crossing the street,” she says, raising a challenging eyebrow. He pouts dramatically.

“You’re ruining it!” he says, trying not to laugh. “It’s so much more fun if we can pretend I have a super power.”

“Some super power,” Mary scoffs.

“I happen to think it’s quite useful.”

Mary rolls her eyes as she takes another sip before waving goodbye and heading to class. The idea hits her when her hand is on the doorknob. 

“My friends and I meet at this pub Friday nights if you want to join us this week. We just finished finals, so we’re celebrating a bit,” she says before she can stop herself. Francis looks surprised and she doesn’t blame him. Their interactions are limited to the coffee shop, though she knows all about his half brother Bash and he knows everything about her roommate and best friends.

“I’d love to,” he says and the smile he gives her sends her heart skipping annoyingly.

“I’ll text you the address?” she asks then curses herself for being so obvious.

“You’d have to give me your mobile number first,” he says, smirking. She returns to the counter, grabbing the pen out of his ear and napkin to scrawl it down. She slides the napkin to him and he picks it up gingerly, slipping it in his pocket.

“See you tomorrow,” she says, ducking her head and leaving the café before he notices her blush.

 

 

 

Her phone lights up later that night, in the middle of Chinese takeaway and _Downton Abbey_ on the couch with Kenna.

 _Regretting your choice to give me your number yet?_ The text from an unfamiliar number reads. Kenna sets down her chopsticks and swipes the phone before Mary can do anything about it. 

“ _Kenna_!” Mary says indignantly, reaching for it.

“No phones at dinner,” her friend says seriously, scanning the screen.

“Who are you, my mum?” Mary asks, rolling her eyes. Kenna ignores this and reads the text.

“Oooh,” she says, waggling her eyebrows at the Mary. “Who’s this?”

“No one,” Mary says, making a go for her phone but Kenna dodges away again. 

“So why do you want the phone back so bad?” Kenna questions.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Give me the phone, Kenna!”

Kenna shakes her head and smirks before typing a reply back.

“What are you doing?” Mary asks, her heart sinking. Kenna doesn’t say anything, instead tapping once more and looking up, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “Kenna, what have you done?”

She doesn’t answer, instead simply handing over the phone and sitting back in her chair, arms crossed.

 _One sec, I just got out of the shower and I’m really wet_.

All the way across London, Francis looks at his phone screen and spits out his water as he reads the display.

But right now, Mary feels her heart fall out of her chest.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“I’m going to _kill_ you!” Mary says, her voice raised. Kenna cackles and springs up from her seat, anticipating Mary’s next move. Mary drops her phone to the couch and reaches next to her, grabbing a pillow and flinging it at her friend. Kenna laughs loudly again and dodges, grabbing a pillow of her own. Mary picks up her weapon and slams Kenna across the side with it.

“I’ve already sent it! The damage is done!” her friend says joyfully. Mary groans and drops the pillow, picking her phone back up and quickly typing back a reply.

_I’m so sorry, my friend took my phone. I would never say that_

She presses send, her heart beating a little less fast now.

 _Haha, I understand_ , comes the reply.

 _This is Francis right_? she asks, thinking the worst.

_Yeah it is_

_Thank God_

“Mary?” Kenna asks and Mary looks up, forgetting she isn’t alone. “Who is it?”

“The barista,” Mary says sheepishly. Kenna’s eyes light up and she flashes to Mary’s side, looking at the screen. Mary follows her friend’s face, trying to gauge her reaction. After a pause, Kenna looks up.

“So his name is Francis,” she says and Mary can’t tell what she’s thinking. Kenna’s tone is cold as she adds, “Nice to know something about him.”

“Are you…angry?” Mary asks warily.

“How long have you been talking to him?” Kenna asks instead of answering.

“About a month,” she replies.

“You used to tell me when a boy _looked_ at you,” Kenna says, looking away.

“When we were fourteen maybe,” Mary says but Kenna’s words hit close to home so she continues. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just—I’m not sure where we’re going. One day I think he’s going to do something, the next I think he’s just being polite. Telling you would get my hopes up that something would happen.”

“So you like him?” Kenna asks, softening. Mary doesn’t reply and Kenna finds herself knowing the answer anyways.

“I invited him to the pub this week,” Mary says after a long pause. 

“So we’ll meet him then?”

“No, you’re not invited,” Mary says sardonically.

“Ha ha,” Kenna says in a similar tone. “Don’t forget I have the power to refuse him. If I don’t like him, you won’t be seeing much of him.”

“Because your opinion matters so much to me.”

“Funny,” she says dryly. “But I also have the power to tell him _anything_ I want to about you. Perhaps the story of you throwing all your last boyfriend’s clothes out the window when you broke up?”

“Erm, Kenna, that never happened.”

“Yes but Francis doesn’t need to know that.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mary says warily. 

“I would,” her friend challenges.

“You’re the worst mate I’ve ever had.”

“And here we are living together. What a cruel, cruel world.”

 

 

 

“Look over by the bar,” Kenna says the moment Mary walks over to their booth, the bar loud and crowded on a Friday night. Mary follows Kenna’s finger to see a tall, brown-haired bloke with bright green eyes sliding a beer down the bar. “That’s Bash, the bloke I told you about.”

“He’s handsome,” Mary says, though he isn’t her type.

“He’s _gorgeous._ And I could get free drinks,” Kenna says.

“You’re as good as married, then!” Mary says sarcastically and Kenna ignores her. “I’d watch out, that brunette is trying to chat him up.”

Kenna’s eyes widen comically and she’s gone in seconds, at the bar before Mary can even stop her. She takes Kenna’s seat next to Lola and smiles at her friends. Greer hands her the beer she ordered for her and Mary tries not to let her gaze flicker to the door. She told Francis their usual booth but it’s packed tonight and she worries that if she doesn’t keep her eye on the door, she’ll miss him. 

“Someone’s on edge,” Lola notes and Mary looks away from the door. 

“I’m fine,” she says, hoping her voice sounds as strong as her statement.

“Francis is going to love how excited you are,” Leith says and Mary’s eyes widen.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“He’s kidding,” Greer says, slapping his arm lightly. “Aren’t you, Leith?”

“Oh, of course,” he says but his wink at Mary tells otherwise. “If it makes you feel any better, he hasn’t stopped talking about how nervous he was to meet your friends.”

“Don’t listen to a word he says,” an oh so familiar voice says next to her. Mary looks up to see Francis standing before her, a light smile on his face. He’s not wearing his usual button down from the coffee shop and it’s odd to see him without a nametag. Instead he’s wearing jeans and a Rolling Stones shirt, his hands pushed into his pockets. He smiles at her and says simply, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Oh my God, can you guys stop flirting?” Kenna exclaims after several beats and Mary tears her eyes away from Francis’s.

“We just said hi!” Mary says indignantly, fixing her friend with a look.

“Please, that was the epitome of eye-fucking,” Kenna says, rolling her eyes as she leans back into her chair and sips her drink. If Mary wasn’t blushing before, she certainly is now. Kenna smirks at Mary before looking over to Francis and raking her eyes up and down his body. She thrusts out her hand. “I’m Kenna.”

“Francis,” he says, taking it as his eyes flicker to Mary’s, a definite confused look in them.

“Oh, I know,” Kenna says with a self-satisfied look. She flinches slightly as if hit and turns to Mary. “I think you just kicked me by accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Mary says, smiling sweetly. Kenna opens her mouth with a retort ready but is interrupted by the appearance of her bartender next to Francis.

“Wait, you know Kenna?” the bartender says, turning to Francis.

“Wait _you_ know each other?” Kenna says before Francis can respond.

“We’re brothers,” Francis says.

“Half-brothers,” corrects the bartender and Francis rolls his eyes.

“So this is Kenna,” Francis says, turning to his brother. “ _The_ Kenna?”

“Shut up,” the bartender says stonily, avoiding eye contact. 

“No, please tell me more about this Kenna,” Kenna says sweetly to Francis, who is fighting back a grin. Before he can say anything though, Bash whispers something to Francis. He immediately sobers. When neither of them respond, Kenna rolls her eyes and mutters, “Hopeless, the lot of you.”

Mary ignores her and turns to the bartender.

“I’m Mary, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she says.

“Sebastian, but everyone calls me Bash,” he says. He turns to Kenna, his mouth stretched into a large smile. “’ _Finally?’”_  

“I’m going to kill you all,” she says darkly but Mary just laughs it off. Kenna’s face lights up right after though, as if she’s got an idea. “But first, I’m going to kill you at pool.”

“Kenna, you know I’m horrid at it,” Mary says tiredly.

“Oh but you won’t be playing alone,” Kenna says, grinning. “You’ll play with Francis.”

 

 

 

“The only thing I like better than playing pool,” Kenna says, lining up her shot and sending the balls around the table, “Is beating people at pool.”

“How are you so sure we’re going to win?” Bash asks. 

“Have you met Kenna?” Mary says in response. “The only thing she can beat me at is pool.” 

“Thanks,” Kenna says as she backs away from the table to let Mary go. “Wait, was that a compliment?”

Her question goes unanswered as Mary knocks a solid ball into the corner pocket, grinning widely. She and Francis high five and Mary pretends she isn’t effected by the simple touch of skin. The game continues mostly uneventfully, Kenna putting in most of the balls with some help from Bash and Francis and Mary trying to give them a good game.

When Francis makes a particularly difficult shot, Kenna looks him up and down with new eyes.

“Barista, coming alive,” she says, her eyes flashing.

“He has a name,” Mary says pointedly.

“Oh but calling him barista is so much more fun,” Kenna says, fake pouting as she leans down to the table and hits a thoroughly unsuccessful ball. She groans but lets Mary take her shot, more angry with herself than anyone else.

“Let’s make this a little more interesting,” Bash says as Francis misses a shot. “Loser buys drinks for the rest of the night.”

“You get free drinks anyways,” Francis points out and Bash waves his hand, ignoring his brother.

“Done,” Mary says and holds out her hand for a handshake. Bash accepts it and a determined looks comes over Mary’s eyes. “Ready to buy us drinks?”

“Only after you do,” Kenna shoots back easily, watching Bash carefully hit the ball. The game gets increasingly more competitive now that there are stakes and the two teams get more and more enthusiastic.

“Ha!” Mary says when Francis hits a ball into the pocket. “Taste that in your mouth? That’s the taste of free drinks!" 

“Another thing to note about Mary is that when she gets drunk, she gets _really_ drunk,” Kenna says to Francis, who has a small smile on his face as he watched Mary take a swig of beer. “Oh God, you guys are sickening. You even find her being drunk cute!”

“We’re not together,” he says quickly.

“Yeah, and Bash and I aren’t going home together tonight,” she says sarcastically.

“You guys are good together,” he says and Kenna rolls her eyes.

“Of course we are, but don’t change the subject,” she says. “Do you like her?”

Francis pauses, deep in thought as he watches Mary laugh at something Lola said as Lola watches the game with Greer and Leith.

“Right, so you don’t have to answer that question to answer that question,” Kenna says, then frowns at her words. “You know what I mean.”

Francis opens his mouth to say something but Mary comes over, tugging him away. 

“It’s your turn, you lazy meany,” she says, pushing him towards the table.

“Lazy meany?” he asks, amused. 

“You’re lazy because it’s your turn but you won’t go and you’re a meany because you won’t kiss me,” she explains simply. Kenna bursts out laughing at her friend while Mary looks like what she said was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I won’t kiss you, huh?” he asks and she nods.

“It’s quite annoying,” she says. “I’m getting impatient.” 

“So it’s something you want me to do?”

“Duh.”

“Can I tell you a secret? Why I won’t kiss you?” he asks quietly and Mary nods seriously. “Not like this.”

Mary ponders his words for a moment then smiles, her eyes lighting up. 

“A sufficient answer,” she says and turns away, stumbling over as she walks over to Kenna.

“Okay, it’s time for you to go home,” Kenna says, putting her arm around Mary. Mary looks like she’s about to protest but thinks better of it, shrugging and complying as they collect their coats, leaving the unfinished pool game behind.

 

 

 

“I am a complete and utter idiot,” she says as she walks up to the counter bright and early Saturday morning. Francis smiles at her as he prepares her coffee.

“It was endearing,” he says as he places a muffin in front of her. She frowns down at it. She never gets a muffin. “Top secret hangover helper. There must be something in the flour.”

She grins at him and, taking a small bite, sighs as she tastes it.

“This is _heavenly_. Who made these?” she asks.

“I did,” he says hesitantly. Mary looks pleasantly surprised.

“I may have to hire you as my own personal baker,” she says. He laughs softly and turns away to clean the coffee machine. Mary frowns slightly, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place. When Francis doesn’t turn around for a while, she mutters a small goodbye and hurries out of the shop.

The thing about her relationship with Francis is that she’s never once felt awkward or out of place. Except for now. And of course she can’t help but think that it’s about last night. She was so stupid to get that drunk with Francis in the vicinity. He hadn’t mentioned that she said she wanted him to kiss her but she knows he remembers as well as she did. If only she could forget.

Francis obviously just wanted to be friends, otherwise he would have done something about what she did last night. She remembers the words “Not like this” clear as day but looking back, she realizes they were just words to avoid it. Avoid her.

She throws her coffee and the admittedly delicious but half eaten muffin in a nearby trashcan.

She’ll have to find a new coffee shop now.

 

He shows up at her flat after a week of Mary avoiding the café. It’s ten thirty and she’s wearing her pajamas when she opens the door.

“You haven’t come to the shop in a while,” he says. 

“I’ve been busy,” she replies softly.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he corrects.

“I thought that after I ruined our friendship you wouldn’t want to see me anymore,” she says, shrugging. 

“Ruined our friendship? Where did you get that from?” he asks, thoroughly confused.

“When I said I wanted to kiss you,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought I’d make avoiding me a bit easier for you.”

“You really think that?” he asks and she nods. He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Harry Potter’s one of your favorite books right?”

“I—yeah, I guess it is,” she says, stumbling over her words in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“There’s a marathon of the movies tonight. The third one is on right now,” he says. “I wasn’t going to try to avoid you. You didn’t ruin our friendship. Got it?' 

She nods, smiling a bit. 

“Let’s watch some Harry Potter,” he says. She steps back, letting him enter the flat. They walk over to the couch and Mary plops herself down next to him, turning on the TV. Sure enough, after some channel flipping, the third Harry Potter is playing. They don’t talk for most of the movie—Harry Potter is sacred—but towards the end she begins to doze off, her head falling to his shoulder. She can’t see his face and she doesn’t let herself look but she can just imagine the small smile on his face as she curls into his body comfortably. They make it through the fourth one and it’s past midnight when they decide to just keep watching. The fifth one has just started when a key turns into the door.

“Shhh, Mary might still b—“ Kenna’s voice says, breaking off when she takes in Mary and Francis curled up on the couch, both fast asleep in each other’s arms. Kenna has to cover her mouth to prevent herself from smiling too largely.

“Should we wake them up?” asks Bash in a whisper. Kenna shakes her head.

“No, let’s leave them,” she says. “They’ve been beating around the bush long enough.”

 

 

 

They wake up at the same time around five in the morning.

“Hi,” she says sleepily, pulling away from him slightly.

“Hi.”

“Breakfast?” she asks.

“It’s five in the morning!” he says, checking his watch.

“I’m not going back to sleep for another couple hours, let’s be honest,” she says.

“Then breakfast,” he says and stands up. Mary feels the loss of his body against hers immediately and banishes the feeling of disappointment in her stomach. They make their way into the open kitchen slowly, the sleep not yet gone from their bodies.

“Muffins,” she says suddenly and Francis looks at her, frowning.

“Erm, what?” he says. 

“You have to make me one of your heavenly muffins,” she says, poking him in the chest. In response, he begins to shuffle around her kitchen, collecting various utensils and ingredients. Mary grins widely and sings, “Thank you.”

They busy themselves for the next half hour with throwing flour at each other, sticking their fingers in the dough and eating it raw. They drip the batter everywhere so when the muffins finally slide into the oven, Mary is not convinced of their heavenliness.

“You’ve got batter in your hair,” Francis says, laughing quietly. Mary rolls her eyes as he takes a lock of her hair and wipes the batter off. It makes her realize how close they are in this moment. She can count his eyelashes as he looks down at her. His hand drops to his side and she feels like she’s watching everything with an outside eye, like she’s in some cliché romantic comedy. He takes a small step closer and she doesn’t step back, almost challenging him with her eyes.

The kitchen is bathed in early morning light, the light that comes before the sun, like a hint at what’s to come. The white walls look closer to a peachy color and in a couple minutes, the sun will come up and render the lights unneeded. The light will flicker off the surfaces, sending shadows around the room. The sky will be a beautiful orange color and the stars will be hidden once more.

But Mary and Francis will not notice any of that because their eyes are closed and their lips are touching.

It doesn’t take much for their lips to touch, just one step in the right direction and an angle of heads. And it doesn’t take much to rob Mary of all cognizant thought as his lips move against hers in the most natural way possible. Her fingers thread through his hair as he pulls her effortlessly closer, simultaneously making her feel breathless and alive. 

She’s not sure how long they stand kissing in the now sun soaked room but when they pull away, the sun has come over the skyline and is sending long shadows across the floor. She likes how their shadows are intertwined, how you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.

He rests his forehead on hers when they finally pull apart. Unable to control herself any longer, she breaks into a huge smile, which he reciprocates.

“It took you long enough,” she says softly.

“ _Me_? Why do _I_ have to be the one to kiss you?” he asks indignantly. She doesn’t say anything, instead smiling again and pressing her lips to his. He responds within moments, pulling her closer again. Their first kiss was calm and natural. There was no hurry or rushing.

But they know each other better now, in a way they didn’t before. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to grow more insistent and soon Francis’s hands go to her hips, pushing her against the counter behind her. She tangles her fingers in his hair, tugging ever so slightly. He groans against her lips and she smiles against his. In retaliation, he takes her lower lip between his teeth and pulls ever so slightly. The effect is immediate—she runs her hands down his chest, feeling his slamming heart with her palm. He is just about to hoist her up on the counter when the floorboards creek behind them. They spring apart and turn, seeing Kenna wearing a men’s button down and nothing else. 

Her eyes widen comically and she says, “Well. Good morning to you too.”

She nods to the two of them once before continuing on her way to the bathroom. When she comes out, neither Francis nor Mary has moved.

“Just don’t shag in my kitchen please,” she says and walks back into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

 

 

 

Mary nearly skips into the café the next day. Francis looks up the moment he sees her through the window and grins as the bell above the door ring. 

“Hello,” she sings as she approaches the counter and Francis passes her a coffee.

“Good mood?” he asks and she nods after pecking him quickly on the lips.

“My boyfriend is terribly sweet,” she replies after taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh?” he asks, grinning. “Anything special he did for you today?”

“Just look absolutely gorgeous,” she says, slipping the money across the counter. He slides it back.

“On the house,” he says.

“Does this mean I get free coffee all the time?” she asks excitedly. 

“God no,” he scoffs in reply.

“Bash gives Kenna free drinks,” Mary points out.

“Does he?” he asks and Mary nods, her face serious. “Well I’m not my brother.”

“Evidently not,” she says, pouting slightly. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, she leans over the counter and kisses him, closing her eyes and smiling against his lips. It’s an awkward angle but it doesn’t matter because, as always, Francis seems to block out the world around her. They pull away once they realize they’re in public and he’s on duty and Mary hides her smile as she takes another sip of her drink. 

“What about muffins?” she asks and Francis looks at her sternly as he shakes his head.

“Then _what_ ,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks out of the café, “Is the point of dating you?”


End file.
